have absorbed the stink of cigarette smoke over
the years, because I could still catch a whiff of it in the air. Or maybe it was just because I’d been
coming here so long I knew the table was in the old smoking section.
Steph made her grand entrance about five minutes later, rushing through the door and
scanning the restaurant anxiously, like she was afraid I’d have bolted by now. I waved, and saw
her sigh of relief.
The Glasses had already made their fortune by the time Steph was in her formative years,
so she’d grown up with the best fashion sense money could buy. She was wearing perfectly
tailored slate gray slacks and a luxurious red cashmere sweater that clung to her near-flawless
figure. She’d finished the outfit with a black swing coat and a pair of stiletto-heeled boots that
I’d have broken my neck trying to walk in.
As usual, every male over the age of twelve gave her at least one or two appreciative
glances as she snaked her way through the tables toward me. I told myself I was not jealous, but it was a lie. She was just so damn … perfect. If only she were a bitch, so I could hate her like she
deserved to be hated…
Steph’s mischievous smile said she had an inkling what was running through my mind.
She draped her coat over the back of her chair, then sat across from me and gave me a
penetrating stare. It took every ounce of my willpower not to look away.
Steph leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Something happened,” she said
with great authority. “Something other than a car accident. What is it?”
Great. I hadn’t even opened my mouth yet, and already Steph saw through me.
I considered trying to bluff my way through it. When I was on the job, people always
seemed to believe whatever pretext I made up, but Steph and her parents knew me too well, and I
was rarely able to slip a lie past any of them.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’ve got some stuff going on. But it’s not anything I can talk about.”
Not without getting carted off to the loony bin, that is.
Steph uncrossed her arms and began tapping the table with her perfectly manicured nails.
“I mean it, Steph. I can’t talk about it. I’m not willfully holding out on you.” Well, not
too much, anyway.
She continued tapping her fingers and staring at me, not saying a word. I recognized the
ploy for what it was: she was hoping that the pressure of her silent scrutiny would make me blurt
something out. It was a tactic she’d learned from her mom, and under normal circumstances, it
might even have worked.
The waitress interrupted our silent standoff to take our orders. Neither one of us had even
consulted the menu, but then we’d memorized it years ago.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Steph finally asked when the waitress was out of
earshot.
“I can’t—”
“Talk about it. Yeah, I heard you. I’m not asking for details. I just want to know if you’re
in trouble, and if there’s anything I can do to help.”
My throat tightened briefly. There were times when Steph bugged the hell out of me, but
she was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. She could have resented me for inserting myself
into her family when she’d had thirteen years of being an only child, but she’d been nothing but
supportive even from the very beginning, when I’d been a sullen, sulky troublemaker.
“Thanks, Steph,” I said, my voice a bit gruff. “But there’s nothing you can do.” I forced a
grin. “Except stop setting me up on blind dates with assholes.”
For a moment, I thought she was going to resist my attempt to deflect the conversation.
Then her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“What’s wrong with Jim?” she asked, though her heart wasn’t in the question. “He’s nice,
he’s handsome, he’s successful, and he’s single.”
I rolled my eyes. One of the reasons everyone likes Steph is that she’s so good at turning
a blind eye to peoples’ flaws.
the years, because I could still catch a whiff of it in the air. Or maybe it was just because I’d been
coming here so long I knew the table was in the old smoking section.
Steph made her grand entrance about five minutes later, rushing through the door and
scanning the restaurant anxiously, like she was afraid I’d have bolted by now. I waved, and saw
her sigh of relief.
The Glasses had already made their fortune by the time Steph was in her formative years,
so she’d grown up with the best fashion sense money could buy. She was wearing perfectly
tailored slate gray slacks and a luxurious red cashmere sweater that clung to her near-flawless
figure. She’d finished the outfit with a black swing coat and a pair of stiletto-heeled boots that
I’d have broken my neck trying to walk in.
As usual, every male over the age of twelve gave her at least one or two appreciative
glances as she snaked her way through the tables toward me. I told myself I was not jealous, but it was a lie. She was just so damn … perfect. If only she were a bitch, so I could hate her like she
deserved to be hated…
Steph’s mischievous smile said she had an inkling what was running through my mind.
She draped her coat over the back of her chair, then sat across from me and gave me a
penetrating stare. It took every ounce of my willpower not to look away.
Steph leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Something happened,” she said
with great authority. “Something other than a car accident. What is it?”
Great. I hadn’t even opened my mouth yet, and already Steph saw through me.
I considered trying to bluff my way through it. When I was on the job, people always
seemed to believe whatever pretext I made up, but Steph and her parents knew me too well, and I
was rarely able to slip a lie past any of them.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’ve got some stuff going on. But it’s not anything I can talk about.”
Not without getting carted off to the loony bin, that is.
Steph uncrossed her arms and began tapping the table with her perfectly manicured nails.
“I mean it, Steph. I can’t talk about it. I’m not willfully holding out on you.” Well, not
too much, anyway.
She continued tapping her fingers and staring at me, not saying a word. I recognized the
ploy for what it was: she was hoping that the pressure of her silent scrutiny would make me blurt
something out. It was a tactic she’d learned from her mom, and under normal circumstances, it
might even have worked.
The waitress interrupted our silent standoff to take our orders. Neither one of us had even
consulted the menu, but then we’d memorized it years ago.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Steph finally asked when the waitress was out of
earshot.
“I can’t—”
“Talk about it. Yeah, I heard you. I’m not asking for details. I just want to know if you’re
in trouble, and if there’s anything I can do to help.”
My throat tightened briefly. There were times when Steph bugged the hell out of me, but
she was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. She could have resented me for inserting myself
into her family when she’d had thirteen years of being an only child, but she’d been nothing but
supportive even from the very beginning, when I’d been a sullen, sulky troublemaker.
“Thanks, Steph,” I said, my voice a bit gruff. “But there’s nothing you can do.” I forced a
grin. “Except stop setting me up on blind dates with assholes.”
For a moment, I thought she was going to resist my attempt to deflect the conversation.
Then her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“What’s wrong with Jim?” she asked, though her heart wasn’t in the question. “He’s nice,
he’s handsome, he’s successful, and he’s single.”
I rolled my eyes. One of the reasons everyone likes Steph is that she’s so good at turning
a blind eye to peoples’ flaws.
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